


The Emotional Coming Of Age Of Dean Winchester

by DestielTheShipOfDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is not expendable, Casifer, Castiel (Supernatural) is Loved, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Uses Actual Words, Emotional Dean, Emotional Sam, Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Ships It, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sassy Rowena MacLeod, Words, bye casifer, emoshunz, if u squint, probably too many words, vague background drowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielTheShipOfDreams/pseuds/DestielTheShipOfDreams
Summary: Getting Castiel back was difficult enough, but now it turns out that his eyes are dull and his self-worth is completely absent. How can Dean possibly get through to him how much he matters to the Winchesters? Alternate outcome to 11x18, if they'd freed Cas and sent Lucifer back to the Cage.





	The Emotional Coming Of Age Of Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This was written during a time when I struggled with adding too much detail and introspection to my writing and man it shows. It got a decent reception though. Hope you like it!

I can see it, the crumbling of the fences and walls and haphazard barricades that Dean’s built around himself all his life. I never really thought he’d be free of them, despite the positivity I’ve always tried to instill in us both. When I dared to imagine my brother old and grey I still couldn’t see him as anything but damaged and closed off, feeding his monsters on cheap whiskey and keeping old wounds from healing in the privacy of his own tortured heart.

 

But now, standing in front of what used to be Castiel, Dean’s heart is as open as his hands, as honest as his pleading eyes. He’s allowing hope and faith to grow inside him and it’s _beautiful_ to watch, even if the circumstances are actually pretty horrible. I glance at Crowley as Dean continues to call Cas’s name, tearing my eyes from Lucifer’s twitching, puppet-like form. The former King of Hell is already clutching the banishing spell in his hands, transfixed by the scene before him. The summoning spell, which caused the fit currently wracking Lucifer to occur, lies discarded on the bench beside him. Reassured that Crowley is ready, I turn back to Dean and Lucifer in time to see that it’s no longer Lucifer.

 

“Cas?” Dean says again, and perhaps it would be comical or annoying if it wasn’t so incredibly vulnerable, the way he keeps repeating the angel’s nickname. Castiel - I hope, with all of my being, that it _is_ Castiel for now - hangs limp but upright, his eyelids flickering slightly. Dean grows impatient, desperate.

 

“Castiel, show yourself!”

 

I raise my eyebrows, thinking how odd it is to hear Dean using the full name that I’d thought he might have forgotten existed. ‘Castiel’ feels like a different person, a whole other identity, distinct from our trusted friend Cas. Yet Castiel is what I call the angel in my own head, if not out loud. Cas is Dean’s, both the name and the being. It’s not a name that I feel belongs to me, nor do I want it to.

 

But the commanding tone and the formal naming seem to work. Castiel stirs groggily, sagging under his own weight, swaying on the spot. Familiar blue eyes crack open, squinting immediately at the man before them. I can almost feel Dean’s tension as a force against me, radiating out from him. Or maybe it’s me as well. I feel so anxious and wound up that everything seems to be ticking by in slow motion. I watch in taut anticipation as Castiel’s gaze focuses and his frown deepens.

 

“Dean...”

 

The deepened voice is unmistakable, the confusion in those eyes a clear contrast to Lucifer’s calculating gaze. Dean stumbles forward and my own aching, frantic relief must be a fraction of what I can see wash over his face, even in profile. He exclaims Cas’s name again, almost shouts it, and I see the way he reaches out on instinct before cutting off the movement. The familiar impatience rises in me before I realise that my brother, for once, has a valid reason for not letting himself express whatever it is he feels for Castiel. Castiel, after all, is still currently hosting the devil, who could take him back over at any moment.

 

“Cas, listen to me,” Dean is forcing words out, strained and panicked, and my heart aches to think of how badly he must want to wrap himself around Castiel and just cry right now. But Dean would never allow himself that. I try to control my sentimental thoughts, concentrating on the situation at hand. This is not about what Dean is feeling. Well, actually it is, since Dean’s feelings - still unnamed and unspoken of, despite being _way_ past the point of denial - are dictating this whole messy, risky situation. Still, I agreed to this, too elated at Dean’s emotional development to deny him and too eager myself to put our family back together. Now I have to stand by and hope for the best. Dean continues speaking, eyes locked onto Castiel’s shadowed and pained stare.

 

“We don’t have much time. We’re sending Lucifer back to the Cage, _now_.”

 

Castiel’s eyes finally widen and he almost reels back as though physically buffeted by surprise. “What? No. _No_ , Dean, you need him-”

 

“Shut up, Cas! We’re doing it. You have to hold on, alright? Hold on to staying in that body, don’t get dragged with him. OK? _Cas_ , you understand me?”

 

But Castiel is already shuddering even through Dean’s rushed words, his eyes rolling back into his head and his fingers spasming at his sides. Dean steps forward, almost into the trap, and I tense in readiness to rush forward and pull his stupid ass back to safety. But he teeters to a halt, face anguished.

 

“Cas?” he cries out, the sound hoarse and grating. I wince, my own heart thundering and my throat tight after seeing Castiel again. I didn’t realise how much I’ve missed him. Dean is staring at the angel as though he can keep him there by longing alone, but all of us in this bloodstained life know how impossible that is. I let out a shaky puff of breath, hurting for my brother as much as myself. This is such a mess, but we _will_ fix it. We have to.

 

“Hold on, Cas, come on, _hold on_...” Dean is babbling, his voice higher than usual and thick with emotion. He’s laid so bare right now and it makes me weirdly proud despite all that’s going on. Dean could still learn to allow himself his true feelings, I’m sure of it. He could still be happy, or as close as possible. I see Castiel’s seizure fade and those cyanic eyes flutter open again, blank for a moment before a cool amusement bleeds into them. I turn away in fear and disgust and rage, more determined than ever to put this bastard back. Hissing Crowley’s name under cover of the taunts Lucifer is jabbing into my brother, I see that he is already pressing his thumb into the symbol carved into his forearm, mumbling in hesitant Enochian. I yank my sleeve up and do the same, looking back at Lucifer in time to catch him stiffen in suspicion and fall silent mid-mockery.

 

“You are going back into that friggin’ cage, Lucifer,” hisses Dean, green eyes bright with pain and fury, “And you are leaving Cas here in that body.”

 

“With you? I think Castiel would prefer Hell,” Lucifer retorts, but his face is drawn and his fists are clenched, the words coming out clipped and sharp. My excitement builds as I repeat the series of simple yet powerful lines in the ancient language, whispered reverently by Rowena a mere hour beforehand as she revealed the fruits of her servitude to Amara. The Darkness, it turned out, spent eternity devising and discarding powerful binding and freeing spells in efforts to escape her prison. Rowena memorised and wrote down several of them and Crowley was able to use his knowledge of spellcraft to shape one of Amara’s creations to Lucifer’s cage. The result wasn’t guaranteed but now, looking at the black smoke swirling up and the red glowing engulf Lucifer’s eyes, I feel a dizzy rush of hope. _Maybe_ this gamble will pay off. Maybe.

 

Dean is visibly shaking, mouth open and eyes radiating anxious, agonised elation as he watches the spell drag Lucifer out of Castiel. It takes only seconds but it feels like longer, watching Castiel’s mouth stretch wide and his back arch with the force of Lucifer’s exit. Quite suddenly, the room pulses red and two sets of wings are splayed across the wall behind the trenchcoated form, one folded down and the other, bigger and more deformed, fanning out in defiance. With a shudder, the larger wings seem to explode into nothing and the smaller wings burst out as if released from bindings, clearly damaged but stretching freely across the walls, shadowy and insubstantial. Then the light fades and it’s over. Castiel’s body crumples to the floor, bouncing back slightly from the edges of the battered warding from the markings on the floor. There’s a beat of stillness and I realise that I’m panting quietly, hands trembling.

 

“ _Cas_!” Dean gasps, lurching forward to fall to his knees beside the fallen - again - angel. I almost roll my eyes at his now-predictable exclamation; how many times today is he going to say that name? Still, I’d happily listen to him parroting away for the rest of time if it meant that he said it with that tone of unabashed worry and all-consuming faith. My brother is really, freely _feeling_ right now and he’s not scared or ashamed of himself. He’s not holding back or pulling away from anything. It’s a messed up situation, for sure, but something about Dean’s tear-flecked eyes and shaking hands and breathless voice all seem so human and so healthy. So truthful, for once.

 

“Cas, come on, please...”

 

I walk forward numbly, blood running down my wrist unnoticed. I find myself pleading too, in my head, terrified that something went wrong, that Castiel got dragged down into the Cage too. Dean is pulling Castiel’s head and shoulders onto his lap, cradling the dark head in one arm and cupping his other hand around the slack face. He whispers the familiar name again intimately and I halt a few feet away, not wanting to intrude despite my own need for Castiel to be OK.

 

“Cas? _Castiel_. Cas, come on, I know you made it. I _know_ you did. Cas?”

 

Dean sounds really close to sobbing now and I realise I’m praying, tears stinging my own eyes as I call out for Castiel to come back to us like he always has, or more accurately to come back to _Dean_. Dean needs Cas, and I need them both to be alright for my own life to feel alright. That’s how family works. We all need each other, but right now one of us may or may not have given up and another may or may not be about to do the same. I stiffen my shoulders, determined to hold Dean together and keep moving forward, if the worst has happened and Castiel is lost to us. But then, even if he’s in the Cage he might not be lost to us. My frantic mind rushes ahead as I stare sadly at Castiel’s unconscious face and I start to formulate a rough possible plan for rescuing our guardian angel from the darkest depths of Hell. We have to _try_ -

 

“Cas?” the sudden urgency in Dean’s voice draws my wandering attention and I make a small sound in my throat as I see Castiel’s eyes open slowly, as though he’s drugged. He peers up at Dean, who’s hunched over him breathing heavily, eyes a little wild in his tearstained face, fingers trembling against the angel’s stubbled cheek.

 

“Dean,” Castiel croaks after a pause, the old brow furrow a welcome sight. “I held on, as you instructed.”

 

Dean gives a small, nearly hysterical laugh and gathers Castiel clumsily to him, burying his face in a trenchcoated shoulder. He hugs him tightly but briefly before pulling away, his eyes warm and giving in a way they’ve very rarely been in the lifetime I’ve known him. He’s gazing down at Castiel as though he never wants to look away and I actually feel a smug grin forming on my face until Castiel speaks again, his eyes far too suspicious and remote.

 

“Why did you expel Lucifer?”

 

I feel my stomach drop as I look at his face, realising too late that he’s changed. The old Cas would have clung to Dean and stared back at him like a total sappy idiot. But the angel struggling to shift out of Dean’s embrace now is withdrawn and devoid of affection, which confounds me until I process his next statement:

 

“You need me for something, to have brought me back.”

 

Dean tightens his hold for a moment before releasing Castiel, his face screwing up with pained confusion. Castiel hauls himself up into a sitting position on the floor, still staying close to Dean, still keeping his eyes fixed on him although they remain closed off and dull. Dean leans towards him, hands still slightly raised and reaching. I swallow in mounting fear and dismay, which I’m sure my brother is feeling too. Dean shakes his head slightly, opening his mouth and then closing it again. Cas’s frown deepens to his trademark squint and he continues:

 

“If there’s something I can do to help you, then of course I will, Dean. But I don’t know what you need me for now. Surely Lucifer would have been of more use to you in defeating-”

 

“ _Cas_.” Dean’s voice is harsh and Castiel falls silent, watching him with a flicker of emotion in his weary eyes. I feel slightly sick, realising that this is how Castiel has been viewing the situation this whole time. _This_ is why he said yes. Because he thinks that’s all he’s good for, being used and wielded and weaponised. Dean’s eyes are hollow with horror and I know, I just _know_ that the self-loathing is close behind that. He’s going to blame himself for this, and the worst part is he wouldn’t be entirely wrong. After all, when it comes to Castiel, Dean holds all the power. That’s evident even now; Castiel hasn’t looked away from Dean once since waking up in control of his body again and the longer they stare at each other, the more I can see the hurt and the longing bubbling through Castiel’s blank mask, twisting his mouth and burning behind his eyes. I refocus on my brother, holding my breath, silently willing him to take this opportunity and just say all the crap he should have said years back. I watch Dean take a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut momentarily before opening them again.

 

“Cas, we brought you back because we need you. You’re right about that part. _I need you._  I’ve told you that, man, _so_ many times now-” Dean’s voice cracks a little and I blink, realising that these two have whole layers to their relationship that I have never witnessed, yet there’s still so much denied between them. Castiel is watching Dean intently, the look of confusion frozen on his face. Dean carries on after a moment:

 

“But I don’t think you get it. We need you. _You_. Not for anything, not to do anything. I’ve told you this too: we’re family. I mean that, Cas. You should never have said yes to Lucifer. You should never have even _wanted_ to. I’m so... I’m so sorry. Cas, I’m _so_ sorry...” Dean’s voice really breaks then and he wrenches his earnest gaze away from Castiel’s to close his eyes and duck his head, breathing hard as he tries to regain control. I watch our angel closely and I can see the shock slowly widening his eyes, the doubt parting his lips and, worst of all, the disbelief written in his rapidly shifting expression. He shakes his head but looks deeply unsure and in that moment, incongruously young.

 

“No, Dean,” he mumbles, and I inhale sharply at the pain settling in his eyes as he speaks. “I know you feel obliged to care about me but I’m not... I don’t want to be useless to you, ever. _Lucifer_ is who you need helping you and if I’m the tool he requires to do that, then so be it. That’s my job, Dean, that’s my function. You _know_ that.”

 

Dean looks up and there’s raw anger in his expression. I hold back a groan of dismay as he spits out furious words: “What I _know_ is that you said all this crap to me before, a long time ago, but then you _changed_. This is what you left Heaven for, Cas! To prove you’re not just some, some hammer for asshats like Uriel and Zachariah to use. This is what the whole free will thing was all about, being your own person. That’s why you rebelled in the first place!”

 

Dean is kneeling up straighter as he speaks, his voice passionate and loud. Castiel scrambles to his knees as well, colour rising in his cheeks as the anger mounts in his eyes too.

 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, his tone sharp and incredulous. I’m glued to the spot, eyes wide. Dean scowls at Castiel, fists clenched at his sides.

 

“That’s what I _know_ ,” he snarls. Castiel presses his lips together for a moment, frustration and long-held sadness warring on his face. When he replies, it’s quiet but final, the words a tired confession of an old truth.

 

“I rebelled for _you_ , Dean. All I do, I do for you.”

 

There’s a ringing silence before Castiel sighs loudly and tears his gaze away, slumping back onto his heels as he finally looks across at me. Dean remains frozen, staring down at the angel in clear shock. I’m not sure why; Castiel just took stating the obvious to a whole new level, but somehow it’s a revelation for my incurably, stubbornly, staunchly oblivious brother. Castiel eyes me with exhausted concern.

 

“Sam. Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”

 

I blink at him and swallow heavily, glancing down at my carved up forearm distractedly. “I’m fine, Cas. Don’t worry about me. Look, I don’t know exactly how things got so messed up, but you have to believe us. We did this because like Dean’s been trying to tell you, you are our _family_. OK? You matter to us.”

 

Castiel gazes at me, looking as though he’s trying to work out some hidden meaning in my words, and my stomach twists. How did it get to this point? How did we let our best friend become _this_ convinced that we wouldn’t miss his presence and worry about his wellbeing? I glance at Crowley in desperation, but he’s examining his nails tactfully, a vaguely amused glimmer in his brown eyes. I scowl but I’m distracted by Dean’s voice, quiet and serious.

 

“Cas.”

 

I look back at him and see that he’s lowered himself to Castiel’s level and is peering into his eyes, expression deeply sad. Castiel stares back at him and his gaze is resigned, hopeless, unreachable. Dean carefully reaches up and frames the angel’s face with gentle hands, ignoring Castiel’s surprised flinch. When he speaks it’s almost in a whisper and the effort it takes him to say the words is clear, yet he sounds determined and utterly certain.

 

“I love you.”

 

I inhale slowly, impressed. I didn’t think he’d actually get there, but everything about this night is turning out to be a shock. At least this one is pleasant. Castiel has stiffened up, his eyes wide and his lips parted, not even breathing. I can see Dean’s anxiety mounting as he searches the angel’s gaze for some kind of response, some kind of reassurance or acceptance. He gulps and strokes an unsteady thumb across Castiel’s cheek, as though reminding him that he’s still there, extremely unnecessarily. His voice is tight with terror and he speaks quickly, clearly unable to bear the silence.

 

“Cas, please, you don’t have to... to feel anything, for me. I don’t deserve it. But you _need_ to know that it’s true, and-”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Dean stutters to a halt, cheeks flushing even deeper than they already were. He huffs out a breath, eyes huge. Castiel reaches up both hands to grip Dean’s wrists as though anchoring himself, leaning forward, eyes shining with sincerity.

 

“Of course I love you. Dean, _of course_ , with everything I have, all that I am. But I _never_... Dean, you don’t have to-”

 

Dean makes an impatient noise and quite abruptly kisses the angel, threading his fingers into dark hair and tightening them into a possessive grip. I jump in surprise and then give an incredulous, relieved, slightly embarrassed laugh, looking away as soon as I remember how to control my nervous system. Crowley glances at me and rolls his eyes dramatically.

 

“Pathetic,” he drawls, not bothering to keep his voice down, and I glare at him, furious that he might ruin this idiotically overdue moment. But Dean and Castiel don’t seem particularly aware of their surroundings, as a quick glance confirms. I turn away, staggering a little, finally aware of the pain in my arm. Picking up my jacket from the bench, I wrap it around the wound and hold it to my chest. Rowena is sitting nearby, staring into space as though completely unconcerned that she just witnessed the emotional coming of age of Dean Winchester, as well as the resolution of years of suppressed tension and the beginning of a whole new chapter in the lives of the Winchester family. I suppose it’s just been a few minutes since Lucifer was sent back to the Pit, and the dramatic argument going on didn’t exactly concern her. She probably wasn’t listening to a single word of it. Still, it’s like she hasn’t even noticed that Dean and Castiel are _making out_ on the floor a few feet away. I clear my throat, raising my eyebrows at her. She twitches and turns her cool, imperious stare onto me, surveying me before she speaks.

 

“Well, the Winchesters strike again. I suppose you have a _plan_ for defeating Amara? You’re going to need one, laddie.”

 

I feel my nostrils flare but only give a casual shrug. “We’ll work it out. And we’ll do it as a family.”

 

“Hmm.” Rowena eyes me speculatively before her cat-like eyes move beyond me to where I assume Dean and Castiel have not surfaced for air. Her pert nose wrinkles in distaste. “ _Ugh_ , do they _always_ do this after a fight? Are ye not _sick_ of it after all these years? It’s like they’re wee teenagers.”

 

I stare at her in disbelief. “Um, Rowena, my brother and Cas were not together before this. That right there, as far as I know, is the first time... _this_... has happened.”

 

“Oh, my God, ye’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” the witch almost groans. “How thick can ye _get_?”

 

“For once, Mother, I quite agree.” Crowley steps up beside me, fastening his cufflink over his bandaged arm. “Not that your pet angel isn’t both annoying and dull, Moose, but any moron could see that he and Squirrel were, what is the phrase? Ah yes. Meant to be.”

 

I hear a hushed breath of laughter behind me and I whirl to see that Dean and Castiel have unplugged at some point and are grinning at each other in a shy, ridiculously _cute_ way, fingers intertwined between them. I feel a goofy smile spread across my own face, immensely satisfied and comforted by this sight. I turn back to Crowley and see that Rowena has disappeared. He shrugs unconcernedly at my questioning look.

 

“Suppose Mummy Dearest has a charade to keep up with Amara. I do hope she doesn’t double-cross us all, although I wouldn’t exactly be surprised, would you? Keep an eye on her, Moose. Looks like your idiot brother might be too _preoccupied_ to do so for the foreseeable future.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, thanks, Crowley.”

 

Crowley gives his signature false, sarcastic smile and drapes his coat over his arm, clearly about to leave. I reach out with my good arm and grab his shoulder, feeling suddenly awkward.

 

“Hey, look, really. Thank you.”

 

Crowley stares at me for a moment, his expression mildly confused and surprised. He shrugs, pursing his lips.

 

“Quite alright, Moosey. I suppose you and the lovebirds will just have to owe me one.”

 

“Yeah, don’t count on it, Crowley.” Dean’s voice is close behind me and I turn to see him looking slightly flushed but focused, his green eyes narrowed. Castiel hovers behind him, a slight smile tilting his lips upwards, his gaze fixed on the back of Dean’s head. Crowley huffs in annoyance.

 

“That’s the thanks I get for rescuing your toyboy?”

 

Dean swallows and blushes but his answering scowl fades after a moment and he eyes Crowley reluctantly before nodding. “Fair enough. Thank you, for helping us save Cas. I guess we do owe you, but this don’t make us friends.”

 

“You wound me, Dean,” Crowley says softly, and I see for a moment that the words aren’t a lie. The demon is gone in the next second, though. I blink at the empty space left, a sudden exhaustion creeping up on me. I feel drained. I turn back to see Dean frowning at the floor, lost in thought. Castiel is still watching him, still and pale. He looks like he’ll need rest. At least it won’t be my room he’ll be hanging around in from now on, although perhaps the ‘rest’ part might not come into immediate effect. The thought makes me shudder slightly, but nothing can really erase how happy I am that Dean is finally investing in his own happiness, and making Castiel happy too.

 

“OK, guys,” I say with a smile. “Time to go home, yeah?”

 

Dean looks up at me and grins, the expression uncertain but endearingly excited. He takes a deep breath and turns around. I watch the way Castiel’s tired eyes glow with warmth as they meet Dean’s gaze.

 

“What d’you think, Cas?” Dean asks softly. He takes a step forward and catches hold of the angel’s hand, squeezing lightly. “Home?”

 

Castiel nods and breaks into a meltingly soft-eyed smile, possibly the first time ever that he’s looked at Dean without hiding or muting the way he feels. If I feel a bit choked up by it, Dean is probably struggling to breathe. Castiel’s voice is low and fervent when he replies, finally echoing what we always assumed he already knew.

 

“ _Home_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! There's a kinda sequel in my works called 'The Morning After', if you're interested :) I haven't presented it as a sequel because it works as a standalone but technically it does follow on from this fic.  
> On a side note, does anyone else have trouble with italics on AO3? It's why I don't use italics in a lot of my work, they don't seem to translate through copy and paste. When I copy a fic into AO3 to publish, the italics show up on there but when I post, they're gone. I have to go through after pasting, un-italicise each italic word and then re-italicise them. It's very tedious. Am I just missing something obvious??


End file.
